The Wanderers

We have traversed lowly earth

Gropped for the grand worth

Charred the wood of our youth

Sought out a heavenly truth

If only we could halt our fray

Give our minds and hearts a chance at play

Listen to the timeless prudence

Turned over at birth and at demise

A collective rhythm entombed in us

Thumping to rally our purpose

The only secret we will ever bear

One that would be splendid to share

Courage would uncover at our feet

To lead us on paths brightly lit

In spite of brief bleak shadows

We'd be prodded on by inner glows

Like assurance from the azure sunset

That tomorrow is indeed godsent

The Musing King

He had reigned unmoved on his throne

A medieval upheaval's brute stone

Hunched forward, like a sage

Eager to drink from a new page

A slit, a sail listening to seasons' wind

All around, singing a prayer for a flare of mind

Revering evenings' distant heights

Eavesdropping on nightly celestial lights

Diligently slipping on, the bold mask

Untangling alien cords, dawn till dusk

Enforcing a bullish decree of silence

An unyielding fortress of quiet assurance

Indeed, time brimmed the cup he had sought

Overflowing through dykes dug by thought

He stood, beheld far and below his dome

A road that already forked before his home

Picked his staff, for it had stood stout

When all about, had but trusted doubt

Bound his robe on on a rested shoulder

Ready for voyage, a conqueror's era

His earlier traps would be his abiding maps

His sooner triumphs would be his sterling caps

Yet another guileless late bloomer

Scouring within, for a redeemer